Us
by Lovely Narcissist James Blanke
Summary: Claire suffers because of Lightning. Let Claire explain. (In this fic, Claire/Light are two different people; Claire has multiple personality disorder. T for mentions of abuse.)
1. The Sanity, the Insanity

A/N: I just…had to write this. I wouldn't necessarily call it an 'inspiration,' per se; perhaps 'compulsion' is a better suited word. I made Lightning and Claire their own, separate characters.

Warnings: mention of abuse, Light/Claire, Light/Serah, Darkfic.

Disclaimer: All I did was say Lightning/Claire were two different people in one body. I think that would've been mentioned in the game had Square Enix wanted that. THE GAME ISN'T MINE. Happy?

Point of View: Claire

They say that people work their way into 'insanity.' Maybe it's just because I've been this way so long I can't remember I time when we weren't like this, but I'm pretty sure it's always been like this.

I think everyone is born with a different amount of insanity, it just multiplies depending on time and experience. Or maybe that they're born with a certain amount of sanity and it just starts to go away after a while.

I wish I'd been born with more sanity, or less _in_sanity, whichever theory is correct. Or maybe neither is correct; I'd be classified as legally insane if anyone else knew of us.

I wish _Lightning_ didn't exist, I think we'd all be happier if she didn't, even if we had been sent to the orphanage. I wish Lightning didn't beat my sister into submission and yell at her, I wish she didn't take my body when our parents died. Maybe if she was nice I wouldn't mind it, wouldn't wish she'd died.

I wish she'd allowed Serah to get 'help' for us, but I knew that would never happen. That would mean she wasn't in control.

She might not have always been in our body, but I know she'd always been around, always watching, waiting, whispering in my ear that I needed to something or that I'd done something she didn't like. I know that it was always _her_ hands on mine that led the knife into my skin, _her_ hands over my mouth to stop my screams, _her_ in my sister's dreams, bringing about nightmares.

Also, I know that it was _her_ hands that pushed our parents of that cliff. But it was my fault. I'd been resisting her. I did things she didn't like, I fought her back.

Then she took over. I became _her_ to everyone else. No on seems to remember me anymore. No one seems to know that before _she _took over, I was a caring sister who liked cute things and used to braid Serah's hair and other sisterly things with her. No one seems to remember that I was responsible and fun; not just responsible.

It almost makes me happy that only Serah remembers 'Claire,' because I think I'd feel sick if everyone knew what _she_ did with my name.

Whenever I am allowed a moment of 'control,' it's not in my voice and demeanor; it's all _hers_. I don't have 'control;' _She_ took it all away.


	2. A Sister, a Victim

A/N: This is basically the same story, but from Serah's perspective. It starts advancing in the story after this.

Warnings: If you're here, now, you've read them before…or ignored them…in which case, you're probably ignoring them right now…

Disclaimer: You should know, the ownership of Square Enix has not changed hands since the last chapter. Especially not to mine.

* * *

Point of View: Serah

Claire -or, rather, Light- had always been… different. When we were children, she always seemed to be distracted by something. She would glare at inanimate objects, or sometimes I'd wake from a nightmare and she'd be curled up in the corner of our shared room. She was always doing strange things. Sometimes I'd find blood, and I'd know it was hers, having watched her spill it, whimpering to some unknown being to stop.

After our parents died, she seemed to have gotten colder. She didn't approve of anything I did that was improper, as if at the loss of our mother and father, she'd somehow become an unloving, strict guardian.

By the time she was ten, she was out shooting things for the military and I was something of her secret. By the time she was twelve, she'd graduated from high school, college and the Sanctum Academy. When I was in eighth grade, I met Snow. She didn't approve.

I never told him of the things that she'd do in the hopes of making me stay away from him. He surely would have done something unnecessary that could have gotten him killed.

"I can't control you all the time, Serah; you have to be responsible for yourself," she'd say. "Now, that doesn't mean I can't help shape you. You're a teenager; you're bound to do something stupid. That's why I'd like to introduce you to Lebreau. She goes to your school and she's going to monitor your activity and make sure you aren't alone."

Lebreau and I became fast friends, despite the fact that she was working for my sister. Nothing about her seemed too unnatural, except for maybe how wild she was. She even managed to become friends with Snow. Of course, he never suspected anything.

Light started working in our general area, becoming part of the security regiment. Perhaps to keep a closer eye on me. That wouldn't surprise me at this time, now knowing her condition.

A few more years passed and I was finally of age to leave her. Only, I couldn't. She wouldn't let me. Eventually, she got a document from the Sanctum, saying that, because of my traumatic past and health conditions, I was to be under her care until I decided to marry. Not only that, but she had to approve of them. Reality struck me that I was never going to escape her as my eyes flew over the document.

"You're not going anywhere."

She was right. I wasn't going anywhere. Even when Snow asked me to marry him, I wasn't going to escape her.

Until today.

* * *

A/N: Ooh, don't fall off that cliff! Hey, at least I found the time to update. I've been seriously busy.

If any of you are following my story, Blame, I'll be working on it by Spring Break. I'm working on it now, but I'm not pleased with the chapter I've been writing, so I'm not sharing it with you. If I don't like it, neither will you.

Hey, Thanks for reading, not to mention putting up with the delay. Reading/Reviewing is one of my favorite pairings, by the way ^_~


	3. To be Broken, to be Saved

A/N: Well, here is where the story starts to pick up. Sorry for the first two chapters; I feel like I was teasing you…well, at least it seemed to get your attention…

Chapter summary: When Lieutenant Armador discovers the Farrons' secret, what will happen to Light and Claire this time?

Warnings: Uhh…not much really…

Other Notes: I'm going to use some Kingdom Hearts characters, but this is NOT going to be a crossover. I'm hardly even going to be keeping any of them too much in character and it doesn't keep up at all with their universe.

* * *

Serah's Point of View

Just when I was going to accept my fate, something not far from a miracle occurred.

Lightning kissed my cheek almost spitefully soft where she'd smacked it, a sort of habit she'd formed over the last few years. I always wondered why, but never bothered asking; on the off-chance of her actually giving me an answer, it probably wouldn't make any sense to me.

"You're so beautiful, Serah," she whispered, hand grazing the red side of my face in mock appeasement. "It almost makes me sad when I have to punish you. Though, if I don't you might not be such a good person," she sighed in fake frustration.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I thought of how this would be the rest of my life.

"Oh, poor baby," she cooed, teasingly, glancing to a corner with a smirk.

A knock at the door sounded and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a self-calming technique.

Whoever came knocking at this hour at our house either had a lot of nerve or a lot of stupidity running through them.

Lightning answered the door, pretending to be half asleep. I give her credit; she should be silver-screened for the performance she supplied.

She chats lightly with the vaguely familiar voice for a bit before something must have changed and I hear struggle in her voice accompanied by a limp form that must have belonged to her hit the floor.

I hear agile feet, probably those of soldiers, sweep through the house, separating until I hear one of the sets come through the door of the sitting room of which I currently inhabit.

Upon seeing my limp, half-naked body on the couch, they shout out a triumphant, "I found her," before proceeding to my side and helping me up while another comes in with a white blanket, covering me.

I'm helped out of the house and into what I can only guess is an ambulance. I don't really notice. I've become so jaded, so used to Lightning's routine with me that my brain can't seem to process anything else.

* * *

When I wake again, I'm in what appears to be some kind of hospital. I'm not hooked up to anything, though.

On closer inspection, I realize there doesn't seem to be much medical equipment at all, but there is a doctor-looking person beside me who seems to be looking over some kind of notes on a clipboard.

At my rustlings of attempting to get up, he looks over the thin rims of his glasses, uttering a slightly surprised, "Oh." Hastily, he folded his glasses, shoving them into his pocket and accidentally knocking the clip board off his lap in the process. "Sorry," he cried out, grabbing it from the floor and rising with cheeks aflame. Whether the apology was meant for the clipboard or me, we'll never know.

"That's embarrassing," he finally said, left hand rubbing the back of his neck, right hand gripping the clipboard firmly enough to him to bare the bones of his knuckles.

I was unable to stop the polite giggle that meshed with his nervous one. I felt kind of bad, but ended up relieved when his lightened into a mild laugh as well.

"If these notes are right, you're Serah Farron, right?" he asked, after we'd recovered from our little outburst.

I nodded. "Last I checked, that was my name. What's yours?"

"Oh, I'm Demyx. Demyx Vignette. I'm going to be your psychiatrist during your stay here," he answered politely.

His last sentence hit me like a brick. Psychiatrist? My mouth repeats the words previously in my head with a slight stutter.

"Well…" he starts thoughtfully. "I honestly don't think you're going to be here too long. I guess I'm more of your temporary supervisor or counselor. We're only going to evaluate you for a few weeks; make sure nothings actually wrong, correct it if it is. I doubt the possibility of you having a full-blown psychiatric disorder," he explained.

"Well, why am I here then?"

He looked down at the notes. "I guess it has more to do with your sister, Claire, than anything else," he paused, looking closer at the notes. "PSICOM is going to give you compensation when you get out, for wrongly placing you under the care of Claire Farron, who appears to have legitimate disorders, and for categorizing you as mentally invalid without proper documentation," he finished, looking up at me again.

"So, I could be out of here soon?"

"Oh, yeah," he agreed quickly. "But we still do need to evaluate you, before that happens. I don't want to start with something too monotonous or boring; lets start with something simple. You feel up for a bit of Rorschach testing?"

* * *

A/N: I'd have liked to have updated sooner, but I've been feeling so horrible lately. Got unexpectedly sick; still am, actually ):

Reviews might make me recover faster and make my hands type a little faster (; But, seriously, I'd like to know what you thought (:


	4. Welcome to Level Eight

A/N: Yeah! Things are picking up! In this chapter, we see how Lightning and Claire are doing. Once again, we're using KH characters, but not in a crossover type way. Do you know want to know why? Maybe I'll tell you in the next chapter, but guessing games are fun, so please say in a review ;D

Warnings: Larx's potty-mouth, mostly. The rest are the same you've already read.

* * *

Lightning's Point of View

Walls on three sides, a one-way visible energy field for the last and a smirking Claire Farron in a corner are the basics of what I wake up to. She's overly satisfied and I can't understand why; she's in the cell, too, after all. I wish I could smack the smile off her face without looking like an idiot, but I'm aware that no one else can see her.

A door opens on one of the walls by the energy wall and a sadistic-looking blonde with short hair walks in with a medicine trey.

"Claire Farron, right?" she says with the worst attempt at hiding her cruel ways I've ever heard; so bad, in fact, I'm unsure if she was really trying to.

"Yeah," I say, trying my best to stop glaring at Claire. The glare itself seemed to be immovable but I managed to send it to the other woman. "Call me Light," I command in a way that would intimidate most; I despise being called the name of the original host. She's weak; that's why I'm in charge.

The blonde's smile fades rather abruptly. "I'll call you whatever the hell you want," she says, striding over to me and cupping my face with a hand almost painfully, "but you'd better learn to drop your attitude pretty quick," she warns, removing her hand only to smack my face. "Name's Larxene, by the way. Welcome to Level Eight Gomorrah, bitch," she finishes, all but shoving the pills I was to take down my throat.

I cough the pills back up once she's gone and stare back at the smirking face of Claire, feeling as if our roles had suddenly switched.

* * *

Larxene comes back later that day with another white-coat, as I'd heard the other patients call them in the 'playroom,' as the white-coats called it. I am relieved to watch her leave.

"My name is Demyx," says the doctor. "I'm working with your sister as well as you."

* * *

I don't remember much of the rest of our conversation. He asked me some general health questions. I remember him asking if I knew of any physical or mental health illnesses further up in the family.

I told him of our mother's bi-polar disorder, of our father's alcohol abuse. I didn't tell him of our uncle's pedophilia; that wasn't something I'd ever reveal. On this particular case, it didn't seem to matter.

When he was done with all the questions, he told me about how I could tell him anything I wanted anytime he was around. I didn't take the offer. I probably won't any other time, for that matter.

I watch Claire watch me. I wonder vaguely if she wanted something like this to happen.

* * *

A/N: Be honest, how many of you caught the reference about the institution's name? You'll see why in a few chapters and if you didn't catch it, that's fine, too. (I doubt many of you did, anyway)

See that little box, conveniently placed right under this fic? I like it when you use it to tell me what you thought ^_^


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